“I have no idea, lady, but I doubt he’ll take your appointment. He’s stopped taking appointments lately. Been real moody too.” Tina Tonks took a slurp of her coffee. “Yeah, he’s a pretty rude guy.”
Look who’s talking.
“Great,” Heather said, “thanks.” That was belated and she didn’t mean it, but her sense of courtesy demanded she make that kind of statement.
Tina Tonks was under no such obligation. She shrugged and returned to her magazine. “Door’s open if you wanna leave.”
If she wanted to leave? This was hardly a welcome atmosphere. She’d have been hard-pressed to stay.
Heather didn’t say goodbye. She strode out of the front door and out into the dingy street, holding Dave’s leash tightly.
What a horrible woman.
Heather eyed the building and hummed. Perhaps she’d better stay after all. She could probably walk right past Tina without her looking up from Johnny and Amber. Shoot, she should’ve thought of that before she’d left.
There might be evidence in Gary’s office.
It alarmed her that Gary Larkin had been angrier of late. A rude guy. What did that mean?
Heather marched back to the front door and extended a finger to press the buzzer again.
“Heather?”
Uh oh. Caught red-handed.
“Heather, what are you doing here?”
She turned to face Ryan. He stood a short way off, beside his police car, with his arms folded. Dapper in his police uniform, wearing an expression which was anything but.
“You’re investigating,” Ryan said. “I asked you not to. Don’t you realize you’re jeopardizing evidence in this case?”
“Ryan, I –”
“I don’t want to hear the excuses,” Ryan replied, holding out his palm. “Now, come on, I’ll take you and Dave home. Enough is enough.”
Why couldn’t he understand that she had to do this? It was Eva. Eva had been hurt and she felt more involved this time around.
“Heather –”
“I’m coming,” she snapped, then tugged at Dave’s leash. Together, they walked to the police car, his leash clicking and her stomach rumbling with nerves.
Chapter 10
“He didn’t talk at all?” Amy asked, folding her arms across her chest.
“Not one bit. The entire ride home he was as silent as the grave. Even when I tried to explain that this is personal. I mean, you get it right?” Heather beat the egg whites by hand, because it was good to have something to do that was physically draining.
“Yeah, I get it,” Amy replied, and glugged back a mouthful of iced coffee. Decaf at this time of night or they’d never get to bed.
Heather wasn’t much for girly sleepovers, especially at her age, but lately she’d needed the moral support, and Amy had been happy to oblige. What were best friends for?
“I don’t want to jeopardize his case, but I won’t let the cops handle it and mess it up.”
“I sure hope you didn’t say that to him,” Amy said, and swiped a bit of batter from the other bowl.
Heather had decided a treat was in order, and that treat was her specialty Lemon Meringue Donuts.
“No,” Heather replied. “I didn’t want to make his cheeks even redder than they already were. He looked about ready to pop a valve. I can understand why. He did ask me to butt out.”
“So why haven’t you?”
“Do you remember what happened with Gustavo? Angelica and Maricela’s cousin?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Amy said, nodding.
“They thought it was self-defense and that he was a bad kid, but I knew the truth all along. I’m not some all-knowing sage, but the police aren’t infallible. I’d rather handle a personal matter like this, myself.” Heather worked the egg white, and her arm ached. She relished that sensation, a reminder that she was here, she was real and her feelings mattered.
Her ex-husband hadn’t thought so. She feared that Ryan didn’t either.
“As long as you take Dave with you wherever you go,” Amy said.
The dog perked up at the mention of his name, tipping his head to one side.
“He ruined my carpets the last time I had to babysit.” Amy cracked up laughing in spite of the situation. “I’m just kidding Dave, you’re always welcome at my house.” She sauntered over to the naughty pup and cooed at him, then petted the soft patch between his ears.
“Are you going to help me with these?” Heather asked. “Or use Dave as a shield for your laziness?” She brandished the whisk at her lifelong friend and waggled it. Bits of egg white flopped off and splattered the tiles.
“She’s onto me,” Amy said, in a stage whisper.
An hour later, they were in the living room, snacking on donuts which were positively moan-worthy. If Heather did say so herself.
“Sleuthing and Donuts. Your two talents,” Amy pronounced.
“I’m starting to wonder about the sleuthing. I can’t figure this case out. There’s a total lack of clues.”
Amy sat up straighter, licking meringue and sugary dust off her fingertips. “Ooo, sounding board time, let’s hear your theories, I love it. The mystery is too intriguing.”
“All right, so,” Heather said, squishing around on the sofa, so she could better discuss the matter at hand. “Ken delivered the donuts to Eva’s house on the afternoon before the attack.”
“Right, got it,” Amy said.
“And he said he dropped the donuts off on the front porch.”
“But you found them in the trash.” Amy took a bite of donut and groaned. “And no one in their right mind would trash these babies.”
“He said, that he saw Gary Larkin walking up to the house, but he didn’t see any altercation between Gary and Eva.” Heather rubbed her lips together. “I can’t get hold of Gary Larkin and I don’t have any other suspects.”
“Except for Soupy,” Amy said, pointing with a meringue-tipped finger. “He lied to you and said Eva didn’t visit, when she did. And he made up that story about someone watching him. I bet he did it.”
“I don’t know about that. I can’t draw that kind of conclusion yet.” Heather readjusted herself again, but no amount of moving and shaking would jolt lose any new ideas.
She was pretty much stumped.
“There aren’t enough clues,” Heather whispered. “Maybe Ryan’s right. Maybe I should just let him do his job and butt out of it.”
“Could you really do that?”
Heather thought back to the sunny days in Donut Delights. The meaningful chats with Eva and how supportive she’d been about Ryan and the engagement in general. She couldn’t picture not having Eva Schneider at her wedding.
“No. I couldn’t.” Heather said, at last. “I just wish I had more information. The only option I have left is to do some snooping around Gary.”
“We could Google him. Find out what he’s been up to lately.”
“I already did. Just a few complaints about unethical behavior, and he’s been booted from the Chamber of Commerce. Stuff we already knew about.”
“Ouch,” Amy said, “that had to sting.”
“He brought that upon himself,” Heather said, sagely. She stifled a yawn on the back of her hand, then checked her watch. “Ack, it’s getting way too late. We’d better catch a nap. I can’t be pooped at work tomorrow. We’ve got another batch of American Dream Donuts to make.”
“They’re popular?”
“Oh yeah. The closer we get to Memorial Day the faster those suckers sell right out.” Heather rose from the sofa and swept Amy into a quick hug.
They’d meant to plan the wedding tonight, or at least get a start on it, but the case was a total sidetrack. Heather hurried upstairs with Dave in tow, and got ready for bed.
She settled onto her mattress a short while later, thoughts of Eva’s attacker and the lack of clues sweeping through her mind, over and over again. It was another hour before she finally fell into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter 11
Heather groaned and rolled over in bed, snuggling deeper into the duvet. The air-conditioning was on full blast in her bedroom.
Dave yapped at the end of the bed.
She ignored him and drifted in and out of her dreams.
He barked again.
“For heaven’s sake, Dave, keep it down,” she groaned, then cracked an eyelid to check the time. It was barely past three in the morning.
This dog, goodness, he was like a pregnant woman. He needed the bathroom at all hours of the night. Ah well, at least he didn’t have hormonal problems and a bad temperament.
Bang, bang, bang!
Heather opened both eyes and frowned, scanning her darkened bedroom. What was that noise? Dave barked again.
A thrill of alarm ran up Heather’s spine, and she bolted upright, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, then clicked on her bedside lamp.
Honey yellow light flooded her bedroom. Dave was on the floor by her bedroom door, scratching frantically to get outta there.
“What is it?” She wondered out loud, and tilted her head to listen again.
Bang, bang, bang!
That was from downstairs.
The door to her bedroom swung inwards, and Amy stood there, wearing her blanket like a shroud. “I think there’s someone at the door.”
“At the door? It’s three in the morning!”
“You’re telling me,” Amy replied, stifling a yawn.
Dave scooted past her, bark on repeat, and scrabbled down the stairs, heading right for the entrance hall.
“Oh boy,” Heather murmured. “What could this be about?” She slipped out of bed, grabbed her loose cotton robe off its hook behind the door, and then put it on.
Together, Amy and Heather dashed down the stairs and to the front door. Dave hopped up and down on the spot, barking furiously.
“Shouldn’t we ask who’s there before we open?” Amy asked.
“That’s what peepholes are for,” Heather said, pointing at the lens in the top board of the door.
She stood on tiptoe and peered out, while Amy hovered in her peripheral vision, still firmly tucked into her blankie.
“Oh my,” Heather whispered.
“What, who is it?”
“It’s Soupy,” she replied.
Heather unlocked the door and opened up for the elderly gentleman. He was wild-eyed, his hair sticking straight out above his ears, as if he’d been electrified. He gibbered and wrung his hands.
“I had to come.”
“Soupy, what are you doing out here?” Heather was positive Hillside Manor didn’t let its residents wander, at least not on purpose.
“I had to come,” Soupy repeated, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” Heather replied, and stepped back to give him room to enter.
Soupy shuffled inside, and stamped his muddy boots out on the wooden boards in her entrance hall.
“Why are you here, Soupy?” Heather asked, as gently as she could manage.
Dave circled the old man, snorted at his boots, licking and probing with his wet black nose.
“Dave,” Heather hissed.
He ignored her and carried on with his investigation. Apparently, sleuthing ran in the family.
Soupy didn’t answer the question, but glanced back at the now closed door, and then met Heather’s gaze. He reached into his pocket slowly, fumbled around, and brought out…
A photograph.
He handed it to her, wordlessly.
“What is it?” Amy whispered. Curiosity had finally gotten the better of her. She’d dropped the blanket from her head, and gathered it around her shoulders instead.
Heather gasped. “It’s me. Where did this come from?”
“Somebody slipped it under my door an hour ago,” Soupy replied, his tone gravelly with fear.
The image showed Heather, sitting at Soupy’s bedside, as they spoke about the case. The picture had to have been taken from right outside Soupy’s bedroom window.
Heather traced the edges of the photograph, frowning. “What does this mean?”
“It means they’re coming for us next,” Soupy grunted. “Don’t you see? They want us gone. They’re angry that Eva didn’t die and they want us –”
“Calm yourself, Soupy. Calm, please,” Heather said, and grasped his arm. She turned to her best friend. “Ames, will you take Soupy here into the kitchen and brew him up a cup of tea for his nerves?”
“Of course,” Amy said, then hooked her arm through Soupy’s and guided the old man down the hall. He followed her quietly, shoulders slumped, tailed, of course, by sniffing, tail-waggling Dave.
The poor guy has been through a lot lately.
Heather studied the photo. Was it possible that Eva’s attacker had taken this photo? But why?
It was a threat to her. Or was it a threat to Soupy?
Questions bundled in her mind, a roiling mass of confusion. She had to solve this case, and fast, because whatever this was, it wasn’t a friendly gesture.
Heather hurried upstairs and stowed the picture in the top drawer of her dresser, for later examination. She picked up her smartphone and dialed the number for Hillside Manor, then reported Soupy’s appearance at her house.
He would need to get back to his room that night.
Heather finished the call and traipsed back down the stairs.
Soupy met her in the hall. “I’m not crazy, Heather. Someone is after us.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy.”
Soupy nodded, his gaze sharp for once. “I lied about Eva visiting me. She came the afternoon of her attack. She always brings me donuts. She is such a wonderful woman.”
“Why did you lie?” Heather asked.
“I didn’t want you to think I hurt her. I was afraid, I –”
The doorbell rang, splitting Soupy’s confession open. He looked to the door and then at Heather. “I don’t want to go back,” he said. “What if I’m next?”
“Don’t worry, Soupy, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” Heather said, with confidence she didn’t feel.
Chapter 12
Heather sat at one of the tables in Donut Delights and admired the centerpiece, the porcelain vase brimming with flowers. Her stomach was aflutter with nerves in spite of the rumble of happy customers and the amazing aesthetic.
She had a date with Ryan.
She’d asked him to meet with her in the bakery, because it was past time she let him in on a few truths about the case.
Soupy’s visit the night before had put a whole new spin on the situation, and the plot was thicker than lumpy custard, right now. She just couldn’t make head nor tails of it.
Ryan bustled into the shop, spotted her and made his way over. His expression was somber. They hadn’t talked much since the ‘Gary Larkin’ incident, and he probably hadn’t forgiven her for interfering.
He sat down across from her, and Heather presented him with a donut.
Ryan didn’t pick it up, but did take a sip of iced coffee from the glass beside the plate. “Thanks,” he said.
“I know you’re angry,” Heather said.
“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.”
“Is this what it feels like to be disapproved of by a parent?” Heather scratched at her temple with her nail, then chuckled. “Come on, Ryan, you know I’m not trying to mess up the case.”
“Do I?” He asked, and worked his jaw. He sighed, at last. “Okay, I know you’re not. I understand why you’re doing this, but it’s still a big problem for me when you do stuff like this. You understand that, right?”
“Of course,” she said. “It was just this case, Ryan. It’s personal. It’s Eva!”
“I know. I –”
“Wait,” Heather said, raising a hand. She reached into her purse and brought out the picture Soupy had given her. She slid it across the table. “I thought you should see this.”
Ryan frowned
and picked it up. “A picture of you with an old guy? Is this your method of breaking up with me? Because I gotta say, that’s an interesting choice for a date.”
Heather laughed. “Be serious.”
“What is this?” He asked, shifting in the chair.
“I interviewed Soupy a few days ago, about Eva’s attack, you know? And last night, someone slipped this picture under his door.” Heather poked the image of herself in the face. “He thinks it was the attacker, threatening us.”
Ryan digested for a moment, and then picked up his American Dream Donut, bit off a piece of sugary goodness and digested that too.
“I think you need to get an officer at Hillside Manor, to watch over him. Because not only has he been wandering around at night, but he’s also afraid, and clearly this is some form of threat.”
Ryan gestured with the half-eaten donut, the colorful sprinkles inside caught her eye. “I don’t think it will be a problem.”
“Great, so you’ll –”
“No, I mean I don’t think threats will be a problem anymore.”
“Why not?” Heather frowned.
“Because we caught Eva’s attacker this morning.” Ryan said, matter-of-factly.
Heather coughed into her fist. “What? Who was it?”
“A local waitress. We investigated her because she had a vicious argument with Eva the day before the attack. Apparently, she took exception to Eva asking for her meal heated up.”
“How do you know it was her?”
“We found a bloodied baseball bat in her possession. We’ve sent it to the lab for DNA testing, but it’s pretty much cut and dry.” Ryan rubbed his sugary fingers on a napkin, then dotted the piece of thin paper against his lips. “So, Soupy’s not in danger anymore, and you can stop investigating. It’s over.”
Heather licked her lips. If it was over, then why did she feel so empty?
This didn’t make sense. She hadn’t heard anything about this waitress or the argument. “Wait, when did you arrest this woman?”
“This morning.”
The waitress might’ve had the chance to slip a picture under Soupy’s door, but this still didn’t sit right with her. Her sleuth senses were a-tingling and they told her that this wasn’t the end.
Red, White and Blueberry Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 7 Page 4
